


Close Your Eyes (And Count to Fvck)

by SleepyLeaf



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bodyguard AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Graphic Description of Injuries, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Slow Burn, ish, lots of blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:08:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29846841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyLeaf/pseuds/SleepyLeaf
Summary: Song Title: Run the JewelsV takes on a job like any other, except that it isn't. The job was supposed to be easy eddies. A bodyguard gig for some musician at a small-time venue. Instead, he finds himself pulled into a deadly dispute between a musician and his corporate label. If that weren't enough, the biochip in his head is wreaking havoc on V's health. There might be a way the rock star and the merc can help each other, but not without a lot of bloodshed and 4D chess moves. Johnny helps.
Relationships: Kerry Eurodyne/V
Comments: 31
Kudos: 73





	1. Headliner: Butcher Knife! $10 cover, 21+, Half-off Well Drinks Before 10 pm

**Author's Note:**

> A Bodyguard AU where V starts as hired muscle for Kerry, but things take an unexpected.
> 
> Likely smut in the future, but for now the rating remains M.  
> Tags and rating to update as chapters come out.
> 
> Follow me at DaddyTakemura-dot-tumblr-dot-com  
> :)

It was a gig like any other, except that it wasn’t. By all rights, V figured it would be easy eddies. The contract came through on the holo from none other than Rogue—a rarity in itself. At 7 pm V entered the venue. He’d dressed down for the occasion in a muscle tank and black harem pants. It seemed only appropriate that he should blend in at the event. Didn’t seem to make a lot of sense to be too flashy when he was only there for a job.

The venue was spacious and chrome-detailed, not quite like the scummy bars he usually frequented. Not his crowd, but that was fine. Heat packed in his waistband and cigarette dangling from his lips, he pushed the door in to wander backstage only to be stopped by some choom wound way too tight clutching a clipboard like his life depended on it.

“Uh, hello? Fans can’t come back here, man,” the crewman told him.

“Not a fan. Here for a job. My client is back here,” V said curtly.

“Uh-huh, okay. And who’s your client?”

“Lookin’ for a Kerry Eurodyne.”

“Well it’s like I said, fans can’t—”

V grabbed the man by his shoulder and moved him aside. “Yeah, I heard you. I’m _not_ a fan. I’m the hired muscle. ‘Scuse me.” V strode confidently down the dimmed hallway and scanned the doors until he found the name he was looking for: Eurodyne, scribbled on the chalk name-plate in all caps with a sloppy hand.

Of all times, his head-mate Johnny materialized behind him. _“Wait, what are you doing?”_ Johnny asked him.

 _“Bodyguard gig. Apparently some star’s got an itch to play local joints but doesn’t wanna make a big stink in the screamsheets.”_ V answered. _“Wish those betablockers would last longer, though.”_

_“Those betablockers are a fucking waste. I could’ve told you before you even got here that this is gonna be messy.”_

_“Why’s that?”_ V stopped to actually look at Johnny this time. Sometimes, the dead man was actually useful. When he wasn’t singing _Hotel California_ at top volume whenever he didn’t get his way. Little brain tumor bastard that he is.

_“Kerry Eurodyne was my choom back in the day. Played in Samurai together. Didn’t realize he was still making music.”_

_“Huh. Go figure.”_

_“A word of warning, V, Kerry always had some kind of personal trouble going on. Gotta doubt this is a cut-and-clean bodyguard gig.”_

_“Guess we’ll find out,”_ V said and knocked firmly on the door.

“What is it?!” a voice snapped from the other side. V opened the door as he introduced himself.

“Name’s V. Got a job tonight to run security on your gig from Rogue. You Eurodyne?” V stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the rockerboy, lounging with his feet on the dressing room table and a pint of whisky in his palm.

 _“Same shit, different day,”_ Johnny chimed in, pacing behind the rock star.

“Oh! Oh—yeah, um...” Kerry hustled to his feet and rummaged through a drawer before tossing a lanyard with a staff badge attached to the merc. “Here’s your uniform, heh. Been getting some pretty wild threats lately. Thought it might be best to hire some outside muscle for these small-time gigs.”

V eyed the glamorous dressing room, Kerry’s gold necklaces, and the $10,000 guitar thrown half hazard-like on the couch. “Yeah... ‘small-time’...”

“Bet you must be pretty psyched to work with me, right? You want an autograph or something?” the rock star offered with an easy smile. It could’ve been pretentious, but it wasn’t. Seemed like Kerry Eurodyne was just trying to do good to his fans. Too bad V wasn’t in it for the fanservice.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not exactly a fan.” V let him down easy.

“Oh, really? Didn’t care for the last album, huh? Critics have been ripping it to shreds,” Kerry rubbed his brow. It was clearly a stressful subject for him.

“Nah, it’s just—I’m not familiar with your music is all. Don’t get me wrong though, I’m happy to do the gig.”

Kerry regarded V curiously with an intrigued smile on his face. “Not familiar, huh? Ever hear of a little band called _Samurai_?”

Johnny crowed in the back of the room. _“This has gotta be driving him crazy. Success and recognition was always a sore subject for Ker. Just do me a favor and be nice to him, yeah?”_

“I’ve heard. Only recently, though,” V said truthfully. “Johnny Silverhand is actually—er, ya know what? It’s a long story. Let’s just get down to biz.”

Kerry’s expression darkened then, but he composed himself and took a swig from his pint. “Yeah, fine. You can sit there until the show starts. You’re gonna escort me on and off the stage. Watch the back. Make sure no one approaches me that’s not s’posed to.”

V took a seat on the stool near the doorway and regarded Kerry carefully. “Anyone in particular I need to be lookin’ out for?”

Kerry shook his head. “Nah. Nothing specific. Just keep an eye out for anything weird, ‘kay?”

“You got it,” V said. “Mind if I ask you something, though?”

“Sure. Shoot.”

“Why didn’t you hire someone from a security firm? Why a solo merc?” V gestured to the dressing room digs. “I mean, you’ve clearly got means. I’m sure someone with your star-power’s got contracts with entire security teams.”

Kerry rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah. I _could_ do that.” The man all but flopped back down into his chair by the vanity. “Thing is... can’t trust ‘em anymore. Used to contract with Virgo Security Systems. Too many slip-ups, though. A guy starts to wonder who’s really workin’ for who, you know?”

V hummed. “Can’t say that I do.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a long story,” Kerry waved at him. “Listen, the opening band is starting. Keep watch outside the dressing room door until I go on. Got it?”

“Got it.” V left to stand guard outside the dressing room, but with the show having started the hallway was sparse with people. Johnny appeared across from him, cigarette in hand.

_“Huh. Maybe you’re right and this’ll be easy eddies after all.”_

_“Yeah. Maybe. Got a feelin’ though.”_ V told him.

 _“What’s that supposed to mean?”_ Johnny asked.

_“Can’t really describe it. Something feels real off.”_

V waited for Kerry’s set to start, escorted him on stage, and stood at the back through the whole show. Nothing stood out. No creeps in the shadows, no unauthorized scanning, no suspicious activity whatsoever.

 _“Damn. Can’t believe he’s still going after all these years.”_ Johnny’s tone begrudged something like admiration, or maybe jealousy.

 _“Can’t say it’s my scene_.” V said.

 _“Can appreciate the showmanship, though. Look at him out there. It’s effortless. Been playin’ so long he probably doesn’t even have to think.”_ Johnny lifted his aviators to get a better look. V could only smirk in response.

 _“The sound isn’t so bad,”_ V told him, _“for Dad-Rock.”_

 _“_ Dad-Rock _?? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”_ Johnny gaped at him. _“This here is art, kid. Learn it.”_

V huffed out some quiet laughter. These guys were fifty years his senior, so it made sense that Kerry’s sound had a nostalgic edge to it. Even so, the bar was packed to the gills and the folks were losing their _minds_.

The concert passed and V still hadn’t seen anything warranting suspicion. He escorted a sweaty and exorbitant Kerry back to his dressing room.

“So what’d you think, kid?” Kerry asked with an amicable grin.

V found Kerry’s energy contagious. “It was a preem show. I don’t know the first thing about rock, but watching you perform was a treat. You really know what you’re doing out there, even for a smaller venue. Crowd was rowdy as hell.”

“Yeah, well. You can chalk a lot of that up to the nature of the gig. We headline these small-time venues with an old name we used before Samurai took off. When people recognize me up there it’s not exactly what they were expecting.” Kerry paused at the entrance to the dressing room, hand leaning on the frame and serving V some _intense_ eye contact.

“Wait, really? What’s with the bait-and-switch?” V wondered.

Kerry beckoned V into the room and found a towel to clean the sweat from his face and neck. The lights on stage were nothing short of scorching, and the venue was small enough that the air circulation hadn’t exactly been top-quality. “When I do big shows, I headline under my own name. But these sweet little dive gigs? I headline under my very first band name: Butcher Knife. Then I know whoever shows up is really interested in _music_ , ya know? Not just, like, the image of Kerry Eurodyne.”

 _“No shit. Butcher Knife was the name of our band when it was just me and Kerry. We didn’t even have a drummer,”_ Johnny supplied.

“High-life of fame getting to you?” V hedged.

Kerry flashed V a smile and removed his vest, tossing it over a chair. “Just miss the old days, sometimes. You know? Eh, maybe I’m just getting old.” He grabbed his tank-top by the hem and pulled it slowly, intentionally, up over his sweat-slick abs.

He certainly didn’t _look_ like he was getting old. _'_ _Holy shit._ _'_ V thought.

 _“Tread lightly, V. If you don’t wanna get dicked down tonight I suggest you make a quick exit,”_ Johnny said with a smarmy grin.

When V didn’t immediately move and instead stood, unfortunately silent, with eyes glued to the rock star, Johnny’s tone changed.

_“V! Are you serious right now?!”_

Right. _Right_. Fucking Johnny’s ex-best friend with the engram still in his dome was a weird idea. V didn’t consider himself an exhibitionist.

“Okay, well, if that’s all you needed—should we settle the tab?” V said when he finally tore his eyes away from Kerry’s shirtless form. V averted his eyes and couldn’t help but rub the back of his neck, feeling a warm flush come over him.

Kerry pursed his lips as though disappointed, but he shrugged it off easily enough.

“Yeah, eddies comin’ your way. Thanks for the help tonight. Mind if I keep your number for future gigs?”

V nodded. “Yeah. If you have other problems with your security team, or whatever, gimme a call.”

Kerry gave him a wave as V slid out of the dressing room, making a beeline to the backdoor exit into an alley. The fresh, cool air of the evening swept away the flush on his skin as he heaved a sigh.

 _“Pretty close call back there,”_ Johnny said. V eyed the cigarette in Johnny’s hand and decided to light one of his own. _“Awfully nice of you not to fuck my best friend._ ”

 _“You’re welcome,”_ V responded sourly. He took a moment to collect himself, hanging around just to make sure the credit transfer went through after all. He’s been burned too many times to leave a job without making sure he got his payment.

When the eddies didn’t come through right away, V’s unsettled feelings returned. Just as he stomped out his cigarette, the sound of gunshots echoed from inside the venue.

 _“Fuck, V! That’s gotta be Kerry—”_ V blew past Johnny as he hauled ass back into the building, gun drawn from his waistband and skidding to a stop in front of Kerry’s open dressing room door.

“V!” Kerry called out in a mix of relief and panic. A big brute of a man stood with his back to the door, handgun poised at Kerry who lie knocked to the ground. V assessed the situation, scanning both Kerry and the brute. Kerry stared at him, shirtless, but with eyes wide and afraid. His hands clutched around his thigh—covered in red. The brute turned to V, gun raised.

V squeezed the trigger and shot the brute without hesitation. And, well, maybe he should’ve brought a smaller caliber along—he really _hadn’t_ thought he was going to need it—and the brute’s head exploded all over the dressing room. Kerry was in the splash zone.

Kerry grimaced and used the back of his hand to wipe some of the stranger’s blood off his face. V hustled to Kerry’s side and checked his leg over, looking for an exit wound.

“No good, looks like you just bought yourself a trip to the ripper. Gotta fish that lead out of you,” V told him in what Kerry considered to be an unusually calm voice.

“Is THIS what you think bodyguard work looks like!?” Kerry shouted at him. “That punk almost zeroed me! Fuck—you can _forget_ payment now, Jesus Shit Fucking Christ!”

“Hey!” V bit back at him. “You made it pretty clear my job was _done_ here. Besides, that shitbag _didn’t_ zero you. Make no mistake, he absolutely _would have_ if I hadn’t been hanging around.”

“I don’t remember ending the gig—you just left, you asshole,” Kerry ground out, head tilting back as he braced against the pain of his leg while V prodded at it.

V leveled a dark look at the rock star. They both knew damn well that Kerry thought he was in the clear and was suggesting their evening take a turn of the more _intimate_ nature. But V wasn’t gonna call him on it. Had other, more pressing issues to deal with at the moment.

Like the look of shock on Kerry’s face as V suddenly felt an arm crush against his windpipe and lift him into the air. The body behind him was massive and, apparently, either very stealthy or had active camouflage. V gagged against the chokehold as his feet kicked into the air. His gun clattered to the ground at Kerry’s feet as his hands clambered at the arm around his throat.

He felt cold steel pressed under his jaw and his eyes went wide at the familiar kiss of a blade. V frantically reached for the knife he kept inside his jacket, grasped it clumsily, and plunged it into the first place he could reach into the bigger man. If it just so happened to be the man’s eye, that wasn’t on V.

People who want to keep both their eyes shouldn’t be lifting folks up in chokeholds.

V dropped to the floor on his knees as soon as the arm released him. He doubled over as he coughed and heaved for breath now that his windpipe wasn’t being crushed. The body behind him staggered, but V never heard a thump--never heard the body fall. V counted the seconds. It’d already been too long since he moved—he knew the other man was on the rebound. V turned with his knife brandished and a snarl only to be met with iron in his face.

“Drop the knife,” the bigger man told him, one hand twitching on the trigger and the other hand gripping sloppily at the bloody mess where his eye used to be.

“Easy now,” V gasped out. “We can figure this out. Just tryin’ to understand what this has got to do with my client.”

The gun cracked hard across V’s face, sending him to the floor. The familiar bright burn of a broken nose blinded his senses.

“I _said_ , drop the knife.” The man’s voice barely wavered despite the circumstances and an icy feeling settled in V’s gut. He knew anyone who could hold his cool after a knife to the face must be in a league above his pay grade.

“You here to kill ‘im?” V asked through the blood dripping down his lips. “‘Cause I don’ think I can let you do tha’,” he slurred out.

“This doesn’t involve you,” the man above him said. The man placed a boot on V’s neck and leveled his iron in Kerry’s direction.

“Label told you once already,” the man told Kerry. “No shows without their go-ahead. Try to cut out their profit...” the man holstered his gun and drew his knife again, kneeling on V’s neck and drawing the blade behind V’s ear. “We take a cut out of _you._ ”

V screamed as the knife bit into his flesh, slicing the top of his ear and separating it cleanly from his head. The blood gushed down over V’s face as he sputtered out a million different curses. He couldn’t see Kerry from where he was pinned to the ground, but he could see his ear cartilage flung to the floor like wet meat in front of him.

 _“Jesus Fuck, V!”_ Johnny screamed at him. _“Fucking shoot the bastard!”_

Johnny’s anger sparked through V, woke him out of his shock, lit him up like a car bomb. As soon as the boot retreated off his neck, V took a breath. In a spry moment of luck he flipped around, snagged his gun, and fired six shots into the corpo-thug. The man went down like Arasaka Tower.

By the time the echoes of the gunfire quieted, all V could hear was Kerry’s ragged breathing behind him. Blood stained every surface of the dressing room. V’s hands were shaking with adrenaline, neck and mouth slick with blood, and vision blurred.

_“Don’t let up, V. There could be more.”_

“We gotta move,” he told Kerry without looking away from the door. “Johnny’s right, there could be more. We should skedaddle.”

“Johnny?” Kerry asked incredulously.

“Forget it. On your feet, we gotta go,” V said with a weight of authority in his voice. Gun in one hand and Kerry’s bicep in his other, he hauled the rock star to his feet. “Can you walk?”

“Shit, can _you_?” Kerry asked him. When V glowered at him with his bloodied expression, Kerry leaned into V and gripped an arm around the merc’s waist. “Okay, okay. Let’s go. I’ll do what I can.”

The two slipped out the back entrance without any further encounters, but V hacked into the camera system and found three others still prowling around the venue. Once outside, V called up a Delamain.

“Okay, stay quiet,” V told Kerry. “Doubt we can get much further in our shape. Car should be here in less than five. We get in and we go somewhere _safe_ , you got it? Know anywhere these fucks can’t trace you to?”

“Uh... shit...” Kerry said. “I got four properties, but they’re all on the Label’s records.”

“Great...” V groused.

 _“Sold himself out to the corporate gods and didn’t think that’d ever bite him in the ass,”_ Johnny snarked. _“Short-sighted and stupid, even for Kerry.”_

“Can you shut up for one minute?” V told Johnny, a razor-sharp edge in his voice.

“I... didn’t say anything,” Kerry said.

“Sorry, wasn’t talking to you,” V muttered, embarrassed on top of everything else that he’s taken more and more to talking out loud to the engram in his head.

Kerry regarded him carefully in a different light, leaning away almost unconsciously.

“Hey, no offense, but... are you, like, okay?” Kerry asked him. “Seem like you might be a little... er... scrambled up there...” he gestured a forefinger in a quick spiral towards his temple to emphasize his point.

“Told you, long story. Maybe I’ll tell it to you when my ripperdoc is cutting that bullet out of your leg,” V said tersely.

The pair shuffled in between two dumpsters, finding what cover they could while they waited for their getaway car. V could feel Kerry’s heart thumping like bass drum, could feel him tense at every sound. His assailants were mere feet away on the other side of the building. Who knows if they’d found the dead bodies yet. Who knows if anyone had heard the many gunshots from the first-floor dressing room.

V could only flex his fingers around his handgun and keep his breathing as steady as he could. The sting from his lost ear and his broken nose flared with a loudness that almost knocked him to his knees more than once. After what felt like an hour, but couldn’t have been more then five minutes, the Delamain rolled up in front of them.

V opened the door for Kerry, who crawled in with some work. V sat down after him and slammed the door shut. He set the destination to Misty’s Esoterica and finally breathed out a sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked this! 
> 
> I'll work on this when I can. I actually have a plan for the entire plot this time around, so chances of regular updates are likely.
> 
> Fun Fact 1: the band Green Day would sometimes do small gigs under their original band name, Sweet Children, just to revisit the early days of the band.
> 
> Fun Fact 2: Apparently Billy Joel has performed "Piano Man" so many times that he doesn't need to focus on the performance at all. Instead, he thinks about other boring stuff. Like his taxes.


	2. Hotel California, A Cappella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vik tears V a new asshole. Kerry gets fixed up. Johnny just wants a cigarette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't say thank you enough for the enthusiastic reception of this fic! Thank you to everyone who read and everyone who left comments/kudos! You're the absolute best and I love you unconditionally!!
> 
> I hope you like dialogue because this chapter is mostly dialogue.  
> Nothing against the Red Hot Chili Peppers but that Hotel California song is super annoying and long.

“Not _again_ , V,” Vik groaned at the sight of them.

“Relax, Vik. It looks worse than it is—most of this blood ain’t ours.” V was helping Kerry shuffle down the steps into Viktor’s clinic, and Kerry was trying harder than he’d like to let on to not openly complain about the pain in his thigh. V could tell from the unyielding grip Kerry had on his forearm, but there was no reason to humiliate the rock star further. After all, he was already topless, injured, and they were both covered in blood spray from the two corpo-thugs V dropped back at the venue.

“Misty see you like this?” Vik asked him, arms akimbo.

“Nah, we went around. Didn’t wanna give the girl any more fright than I already have,” V said.

Vik nodded in approval. “Halfway decent of you.” He began to sanitize his chair and tools in preparation. “At least you’re still conscious. What’ve you got for me today?”

“Client here has a bullet in his thigh. He can pay.”

“That’s it?” Vik paused to regard the two of them more closely. “Nothing on you? Looks like you’re missing some parts, kid.”

V let out what could only be described as nervous laughter. Kerry watched the interaction in awe.

“I’m sorry, but how often does V show up covered in blood? Is this standard procedure for you two?” Kerry asked.

Vik shrugged. “Kid gets himself in more scraps than what’s good for him. You know, he-he’s still maturing.”

V bristled at Vik and shot him a dirty look. “I’m not some young punk anymore, Vik—”

“Yeah but you still act like one. Hothead. Maybe that engram is to blame,” Vik interrupted. “Go get yourselves cleaned up. I’ll get started once you find your friend here some fresh clothes. Should still have your duffle in the back somewhere.”

V nodded and led Kerry in the back towards the bathroom, handing him a towel to wipe the crime scene off of his face and torso. With Kerry taken care of, V had found his own towel and cleaned away most of the blood from his neck and face. The bruising from his broken nose was settling in, purple and yellow blotches coloring his swollen freckled face. By the time Kerry emerged significantly cleaner, V was holding a towel up to his ear to properly contain the bleeding.

“Here, I got extras,” V handed him a shirt. “Keep a stash of clothes here for just the occasion.”

Kerry took the shirt and raised an eyebrow at V suspiciously. “You get a lot of half-naked men’s mediums through here, do you?”

V’s face leveled into something like annoyance. “Yeah, you’d have _no idea_ how often my clients try to seduce me before taking a bullet. _Really common_ in my line of work.” He rolled his eyes. “They’re for me, obviously.’

Kerry scoffed at him but put the shirt on anyways. “You know, you can just say you’re not interested. No need to beat a dead horse, here.”

 _“Sensitive little shit, isn’t he?”_ Johnny materialized behind him.

“That’s not what I meant—” V started, but Kerry snapped at him.

“Can we just get this bullet out of me? It really fuckin’ hurts, you know.”

Feeling sheepish, V helped Kerry back over to Vik’s chair. Vik was all ready to start the procedure, so as soon as Kerry was settled down he gave the rock star a shot of anesthetic and got to work.

“Holy shit, you’re Kerry Eurodyne,” Vik said just before he sliced his scalpel into the rock star’s thigh tissue.

In the meantime, V took his time cleaning up in the bathroom and dabbed gingerly at his missing ear. His reflection looked back at him, eyes dark and tired, and the swelling of his face making his skin look tight and tender and red. His ear had been severed diagonally, leaving him with an earlobe and half the shell. The wound itself was cleanly done, but the mere surface area of raw skin made it difficult to get the bleeding to stop.

 _“Gross,”_ Johnny supplied.

V applied some salve and retrieved a chunk of gauze to cover the wound, binding his head with bandage tape. A shadow of blood was already evident through the wrapping, but it was enough for now. He’d need to change it in a few hours.

When Kerry was all bandaged up and ready to go, V had just finished setting his broken nose. As soon as V was back in the clinic, Vik grabbed his head before V could object, looking him over and tilting his head this way and that.

“Not a bad job, kid. Make sure to change those bandages in a couple hours,” Vik said.

“I know, Vik.”

“And don’t be afraid to put some ice on that nose of yours. Looks so swollen you won’t be able to breathe right for a day or two.”

“I _know_ , Vik.”

“How’s the biochip been acting, lately?”

V looked away once Vik dropped his hands away from his face. “It’s been great,” he said flatly.

“Mm-hmm.” Vik crossed his arms and turned to Kerry, who was busy adjusting the crutch he’d gotten to help him move around while his leg healed up. “Hey, Eurodyne. You know about the biochip?”

Kerry blinked in surprise. “The what?”

Vik hummed again and gave V a critical look. When V still refused to meet his eyes, Vik continued.

“V been acting weird at all lately?”

Kerry shrugged. “I actually just met him today. We don’t really know each other.”

“Yeah, but you’d know what I’m talking about. Any spaciness? Talking to someone who isn’t there? Any mention of _Johnny_?”

Kerry paused to stare wide-eyed at V, who was pointedly turned away from both of them, hand on the back of his neck out of either nervousness or protection.

“What’s this about?” Kerry asked.

“Vik, can you not—” V called over.

“Nuh-uh, no,” Vik talked over V. “You don’t get to go play solo merc out there when you could be putting your own life— _and others_ —in danger.”

V rubbed his face in his hands. “I’m not—”

“You need to tell me what’s going on, like, right the fuck now,” Kerry demanded. “All this dancing around the topic’s making me antsy. What are you hiding?”

“V has a biochip in his head that can’t be removed. The biochip has a personality construct on it. It’s re-writing V’s brain with a new personality, and it’s killing him,” Vik explained. “Problem is, sometimes the chip acts up. Causes problems. Could happen at any moment.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Kerry pressed.

“ _Nothing at all,”_ V groaned from across the room.

“ _Everything_ , you idiots!” Vik scolded them both. “Whatever nonsense you’re getting up to out there—how d’you think things would play out if you got hit with a relic malfunction mid fire-fight?” Vik pointed an accusatory finger at Kerry. “Are YOU gonna pick up the slack when V blacks out? Has a seizure? Turns into a completely different person??”

“Oh,” Kerry said dumbly. “Er... so that’s. That’s bad.”

Vik huffed at them both. “V’s supposed to be finding a fix for this. Not playing bodyguard to washed up celebrities.”

“ _Hey, now_ ,” Kerry took offense, but Vik was already on a roll. The next five minutes consisted of Vik laying into V about responsibility this and making good choices that. Kerry almost started to feel sorry for the guy.

When Vik determined V had been sufficiently scolded, he handed him a new stock of both the blockers and the accelerators—big colorful pill bottles that Kerry couldn’t possibly miss. The two said their curt goodbyes and Kerry followed V back out onto the street, limping on his crutch somewhat pitifully.

V ran his fingers through his hair and looked plainly at Kerry. “Well, that was... embarrassing,” he admitted. “Anyways, I have other gigs. You want a ride to your place? Doubt you’ll be driving on your own for the time being,” he gestured to Kerry’s bandaged leg. “And, well, if we’d had a tail we would’a known by now. It’s safe for you to head home.”

“God, please, yes. This has been the longest night of my life,” Kerry complained. “How long do you think this’ll take to heal? A week? Maybe two?”

V shrugged while he called up his car. “Maybe more. I’m sure you’ve got access to health boosters, that should speed up the process.”

They waited in an uncomfortable quiet while V’s ride rolled to a stop in front of them. This time, V didn’t get the door for Kerry, leaving him to struggle with his crutch angled awkwardly in the footwell while V got behind the wheel.

“You mind sending that payment through? Both to me, and to Vik?” V was direct. Always tried to be when it came to payment.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Kind of forgot already.” Kerry’s eyes flashed as he made the balance transfer.

“Nova. ‘ppreciate it,” V said. He eased on the gas and the two were on their way through the streets of night city. Kerry gave V directions when needed, but otherwise the ride was just as uncomfortable as the quiet they’d shared on the sidewalk. By the time they were on the expressway, Kerry couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

V grunted in response.

“What Vik said about the biochip...” he waited for V to snap at him, shut him up, something, but V just kept his eyes on the road. “He said there was a personality construct on it.”

V sighed and suddenly looked ten years older, his exhaustion creeping into his expression.

“Yeah.”

Kerry seemed to be considering if he wanted to go ahead and just _ask_ like a gonk. But when he thought back to the way V brought up Johnny Silverhand, the way he talked to someone who wasn’t there, the way Vik asked _specifically_ if V had mentioned Johnny... he just went for it, spitting the words out as fast as he could. “Whose personality is it? On the chip, I mean.”

V was slow to answer and seemed to be considering his options. In reality, Johnny had materialized in the back seat and was leveling V with a killer glare through the rear-view mirror.

 _‘What do you think? You want ‘im to know?”_ V asked him.

 _‘Might as well tell him the whole story. It’ll be worse if we don’t tell him. Besides, sounds like he wants to continue workin’ together. If that’s the case, not telling him would be criminal. Guy deserves to know what kind of baggage we’re carrying.”_ Johnny tapped his fingers idly on the window. _“Hey. Time for a cigarette?”_

V groaned internally but lit a cig anyways, cracking the window and appeasing the rocker-boy in his head.

“V?” Kerry asked again. “You there? Kinda hope so, ‘cause you’re drivin’...”

V shook his head. “Yeah, sorry. I was just. Um...” he trailed off. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. _I was just consulting the terrorist, your BFF, in my head. No big deal._

V tried again. “It’s Johnny Silverhand.” He tried to keep any judgment out of his voice, just the straight facts.

Kerry laughed at him. “This feels like some fucked up kind of prank. Are there hidden cameras in here or something?”

V glances at Kerry and looked so thoroughly unamused that Kerry stopped laughing. “You’re really serious, aren’t you?”

V sighed deeply. “Kerry, I gotta tell you. I’d’ve loved to have met you under different circumstances, but the truth is my situation is straight-up fucked right now.” Kerry’s eyebrows raise, but V presses on. “I did a stupid heist with my best friend, who _died_ in the process, and got saddled with a piece of tech called a _Relic_ from that Secure-Your-Soul program at Arasaka. Problem is, the engram on it—the personality, right? It’s Johnny _fucking_ Silverhand. I’d never even _heard_ of the guy, but next thing I know he’s trying to _flatline_ me in my own goddamn apartment!”

“V, I didn’t mean to—”

“And who asks for something like that, you know?!” V continued in a louder voice. “HE didn’t! I sure as fuck didn’t! But apparently those perverted goons up at Arasaka Corp have nothing better to do than—than to _steal_ the souls of their enemies and perform grotesque experiments on them, right? ‘Cause that’s what it is! It’s all some fucked up experiment! I took a bullet to the head, Kerry—”

“V, maybe you should slow down—”

“TO THE HEAD, Kerry!” V shouts as he takes his anger out on the car’s accelerator. “I was DEAD. Woke up in a fucking dump with Johnny Silverhand’s _memories_. You have any idea how fucked that is? And now, NOW—I guess the biochip is rewriting my neuro pathways! Treating me like I’M the cancer in my own FUCKING BODY!”

 _“V, maybe you should let off the chooh a bit. Calm down. You’re scarin’ the guy.”_ Johnny leaned up from the back seat.

“Oh, eat a dick, Johnny!” V yelled out loud. “Kerry, you have any idea what a fuckin _termite_ this guy is? You see _this??”_ V waves the cigarette in his hand for emphasis. “I don’t even smoke! Except now I DO smoke, because if I don’t, whiney Johnny Silverhand will sing _Hotel California_ at the top of his lungs until I give in! He wakes me up in the middle of the night to tell me _quote-unquote_ ‘funny jokes’ he’s thought of! Christ, Kerry, I haven’t had sex in weeks because Johnny’s just always. Fucking. There! And now he’s all, ‘ _don’t have sex with my best friend, it’s weird_ ,’—like, come _on_!”

Finally exhausted, V lets up on the gas when he notices he’s speeding well over 100 mph. Kerry sat stunned in the passenger seat.

After a small silence, Kerry finally speaks up. “He always hated that song.”

“What song?” V asked, quietly this time.

“Hotel California.”

V nearly snorts in unexpected laughter. “Well that makes two of us, now.”

“That’s one wild story, kid,” Kerry concedes.

“But you still don’t believe me,” V said.

“I believe that _you_ believe it. But I don’t know how I’m supposed to... I don’t know, just take your word for it? It’s too crazy. This is crazy,” Kerry told him. “But, you know. I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”

“Thanks,” V said flatly. “Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to just unload all that on you. There’s just not very many people I can talk to about this. Like you said, it’s too crazy.”

“Wish I could talk to him, if he’s real,” Kerry mused. “Wouldn’t mind chewing him out a little on your behalf. Always was kind of a dick.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that impression,” V said. They pulled up to Kerry’s mansion and V whistled. “You _live_ here?”

“Sure do. Wanna come in for a drink?” Kerry offered. Maybe he felt like he’d owed V for how the job ended so poorly, or maybe he was just using V to get to Silverhand. Either way, V could use a drink.

V was quiet again, apparently locked in some internal dialogue. Finally, he agreed and followed Kerry into the tacky McMansion.

“You should know Johnny’s got _lots_ of opinions on your living situation,” V told him when he was seated with a beer. “Won’t shut up about it.”

Kerry laughed again. “What else won’t he shut up about?”

V hesitated before answering, but eventually said “He wants to talk to you. I’ve got... Those pill bottles that Vik handed me. One of ‘em will hand the wheel over to Johnny. Only problem is it advances the biochip in my brain. So... you know. I’m willing to do it because I think it’s important to Johnny. But I’m only gonna do this once.”

Kerry blinked in surprise, nearly over-filling his glass of tequila he was pouring. “Wait, you can _do_ that?”

“Like I said, it’s bad news for me overall. Not gonna make this a regular thing,” V said firmly.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. What do you need to get started?” Kerry asked.

V pulled out a pill he’d pocketed earlier and looked at it. “Maybe five minutes?” he hedged.

Before Kerry could say anything else, V popped the pill back and washed it back with beer. He hunched back into the couch and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head before he stopped moving completely. Kerry didn’t dare to breath too loudly while he wondered if the merc hadn’t just inadvertently killed himself in his living room.

A couple minutes passed.

Nothing.

Suddenly, with a great gasp, V’s body lurched to life again. The body groaned, lifted its arms as though they were heavy, and blinked rapidly as it took in its surroundings. Then, in one swift motion, V’s body grabbed the bottle of tequila from the table and drank deeply. When they’d had their fill, they set the bottle down and wiped their mouth with the back of their hand.

“Can’t believe you drink that piss beer, Kerry. Why even bother?” V’s face looked up at him, but the smirk on his lips was _unmistakably_ Johnny Silverhand.

Kerry watched, stunned into silence, mouth agape.

“What, your choom comes back from the dead after fifty years and you’ve got nothing to say?” Johnny demanded.

“I don’t fuckin’ believe it,” Kerry almost whispered.

“Believe it. It’s me. Can’t believe you went on to live a great successful life after I bit it—can’t believe you bought this _house_. Jesus, Kerry, don’t you have any dignity left? Or did your corpo backing rob you of that, too?”

Kerry shook his head, stood up, and paced back and forth, hobbling on his bad leg. “Can’t fuckin’ believe it,” he repeated. Then, he spun on Johnny with an accusatory finger. “You gotta prove it. What’s the last thing you ever said to me?”

V’s body shrugged, lit a cigarette, and relaxed back into the couch. “Told you to quit the band. Go your own way. Glad to see you did that much, at least.”

Kerry’s finger dropped in silent awe. As he processed his new/old/dead best friend in front of him, he poured two more shots of tequila and handed one to Johnny. Without any words, he downed the shot and set the glass down delicately, all but falling into the couch opposite Johnny when he was finished.

“Yeah, it’s a trip, ain’t it?” Johnny asked. A heavy silence fell between them, until Kerry broke it a few moments later.

“You really sing _Hotel California_ to get V to smoke?”

Johnny burst into easygoing laughter. The voice was V’s, but that laugh was 100% Grade A _Johnny_. At one point, it would’ve been music to Kerry’s ears. But now? Now, it all seemed like...

Too little, too late.

“I thought you’d get a kick outta that,” Johnny said. “So hey! We got the whole day to catch up. The last time V let me take control of his body I had maybe twelve hours before I got booted.”

“Last time? What’d you do before this?” Kerry pressed him.

“Eh, job with Rogue. Had to take the wheel from V so I could convince her I was real. ‘Course, V wasn’t really into it. But damn if that wasn’t a night—”

“Second time I’ve heard her name today. Wasn’t sure it was the same Rogue when V mentioned it. She’s really still alive? _How?”_ Kerry wondered. “God, of all the people... cannot believe she’s still kickin’.”

“Oh God yeah, the bitch is the Queen of the Afterlife. She’s a fixer now if you can believe it.”

“I can,” Kerry said grimly. “So...” he said after a pause. “What’ve you been up to all these years?”

Johnny snorted. “Mikoshi. Ever heard of it?”

The hours passed and the two men got increasingly chatty, rambunctious, and drunk. More than once Kerry forgot that his leg was injured and bandaged, nearly bit it trying to stand up to make it to the bathroom or the kitchen or to get his phone or any number of things. Johnny, for his part, tried to go easy on V’s body. Emphasis on _try_. He’d smoked through all his cigarettes and helped Kerry polish off two more bottles of the finest tequila he’d ever tasted. By the time the sun rose the two men were reminiscing about the Samurai days. By 10 AM they were jamming together.

“Fuck, V’s got the softest hands I’ve ever seen on an adult man,” Johnny hissed, setting the axe down to cradle his fingers. Kerry leaned over to get a look and made a disapproving sound.

“Kid’s not gonna like you torched his fingertips, Johnny,” he said. “You’re bleedin’. We should stop.”

“What? C’mon, we have a great thing goin’ here! Could be a new song. Whaddya think?” Johnny slurred.

“No, nah, no. Can’t just abuse V’s body like this and give it back to him all fucked up,” Kerry said. “Maybe I’ll get the kid to pick up the axe and practice, though, so we can do this again sometime.”

Johnny put his head in his hands. “That’s the thing, Ker, we _can’t_ do this again. Kid’s dying, ‘member?”

Kerry’s expression fell into a passive sadness at that. “Shit, that’s right.” A pause. “Fuck, Johnny! What are you gonna do?!”

Johnny stretched over the couch, kicking his feet up. “That’s up to V. I dunno. We’ve got a few leads. Vik was right about one thing—we’ve gotta focus on finding a way to remove the chip. Otherwise, V is toast And I—” he stopped, eyes glazing over in some distant thought.

“And you?” Kerry prodded.

“I don’t know. It feels like a second chance at life, but... If it’s at the expense of V’s life, I don’t like it. We don’t stop this thing soon, I’m gonna be here permanently. That doesn’t seem right.”

Kerry rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “You’d really give up your chance at life for this klepto-punk?”

Johnny glanced over at Kerry in surprise. “You think I should try to stay? Let the kid get zeroed in his own body and life out the rest of his days as mine?” When Kerry was pointedly silent, Johnny flung himself off the couch to stand, towering over the injured rock star on the opposite side of the room.

“Is that what _you_ would do, Ker?” he spat.

“No! No, I’m not suggesting—I just... there’s got to be a way where this works out well for everyone, right?” Kerry nearly pleaded. “There’s gotta be...”

“Nah. It’s not like that at all. I already had a life. Got dusted carrying out my payback at Arasaka. V’s not even thirty, you know that? He’s got a whole life ahead of him. If he dies early... it should be his own doing. Just hope we get that choice. The more time passes, the fewer choices we have.” Johnny sat back down, head in his hands.

“Shit situation,” Kerry muttered.

“Got that right,” Johnny agreed.

“So, what’s next? How can I help?” Kerry asked.

Johnny shook his head. “I don’t know man. Dunno if you _can_ help. Next on the list is to hunt down one Anders Hellman, a research scientist that helped develop the relic. But I’m not holding my breath. We already tried two other leads and they ended in total disaster.”

“Wait...” Kerry scrunched his eyebrows together in concentration. “Don’t tell me that shit with the Arasaka parade was—”

“Yep.”

“And that huge crash in Netwatch that was all over the news?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“ _Shit_ , Johnny.” Kerry rubbed his forehead in disbelief. “Was that all your idea?”

Johnny huffed out a bit of laughter. “You wish. Your man V isn’t quite the angel you think. Most of the time, I’m just along for the ride.”

“No wonder he had no trouble with those corpo-thugs the label sent my way,” Kerry concluded.

“Yeah, well. If you’re looking for protection, I’m not gonna lie. V’s the best there is. He can handle himself,” Johnny said. “But I couldn’t tell you anymore where he really ends, and where I begin. The biochip... it’s like our personalities are overlapping. I see his memories, feel what he feels. When I’m awake, anyways.”

“And how often is that?” Kerry asked him.

“Depends. Sometimes he takes blockers and I go dark for a while. Sometimes I just get blips here and there. Sometimes I’m around for whole conversations. It’s unpredictable.” Johnny shrugged. “Bet you feel weird about trying to fuck him now, huh?” he said with a smirk.

Kerry snorted then. “Nothin’ we haven’t done before,” he jabbed. “But seriously. You gonna keep this kid from living his life to the fullest during his last days like that?”

Johnny hummed. “I dunno. If he takes the blockers, I guess I don’t care what you two get up to. But if I have to third-wheel on any mushy shit, you can bet your ass it’s gonna be to the soundtrack of _Hotel California,_ a cappella,” Johnny said with a vicious grin.

The men laughed and laughed and drank and laughed. That is, until Johnny stumbled and fell clumsily back onto the couch.

“Shit, Johnny—you okay?” Kerry leapt to his feet, crutch in hand to approach V’s body.

“Thin’ my time’sh up, Ker,” Johnny slurred. His eyes closed and he breathed heavily. Kerry could only watch helplessly as V’s body seemed to fall asleep. The muscles around his eyes relaxed, his lips parted, and his chest rose and fell gently.

Kerry pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed. “Guess I’ll see you around, Johnny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a comment and let me know what worked for you in this chapter!
> 
> Upcoming chapters will have a lot more action in them, but exposition is important too. Tension between Johnny and Kerry, between Kerry and V, and between V and Johnny is the primary driver of this plot. So, get ready to feel some feelings!
> 
> Love, SleepyLeaf


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